


Fear Can Turn Into Love

by ThatNerdyGirl



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mask, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatNerdyGirl/pseuds/ThatNerdyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if instead of giving the Phantom his mask back, Christine ignored his disfigurement and went to comfort him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Can Turn Into Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just watched POTO and loved it! This is what I wanted to happen.

When Christine awoke, she was greeted with a moment of terrifying confusion. She wasn’t in her small bedroom at home, but instead in a small, dark room with a black shroud sealing her off from the rest of the place she was in. Candles glittered from all angles, and a music box was playing, a mechanical monkey crashing symbols on the top of it.

“Wha—” She cut herself off, memories flooding into her mind rapidly.

She had traveled across a river with a man, a strange man. His face had been hidden by a white mask, and she had longed to discover what was underneath. There had been many candles, as they were the only source of light in the cave. She had been with the Phantom of the Opera.

Fear closed around her, but curiosity overpowered it, eager to see the world beyond the black shroud.

Quietly, as to not alert anyone of her consciousness, she crept towards the shroud, pulling it back and nearly gasping at the majesty of the room beyond it.

Gold glittered everywhere, with heavy curtains draped all around. Water glittered to her right, reflecting the thousands of candles illuminating the room. Music was playing to her left, and she turned her head to find the Phantom engrossed in playing the keys, stopping only to write something down in between.

Christine waited with baited breath for him to acknowledge her, only to realize that he didn’t know she was awake. She relaxed and observed him, curiosity once again overtaking her.

He was wearing a suit with a black bowtie, and his dark hair was greased back, shiny in the candlelight. A white mask obscured half of his face from her vision, so she studied the other half. He was handsome, judging by his strong jaw and bone structure, but it was almost agonizing to not be able to see his face entirely.

Her fingers itched to take the mask off, to see his true features, and she hesitated before creeping up to him carefully, adrenaline rushing through her.

She quietly walked to his right side, where the mask was, and reached out. He froze and turned his head slightly, scaring her into yanking her hands away, her eyes wide. However, he didn’t turn enough to see her, and he began pressing the ivory keys of the piano in a dark tune again.

Christine’s heart was beating so loudly that she feared he could hear it. She reached out once again, hands shaking, and came in contact with his ivory mask. She quickly curled her fingers around the edge of it and pulled it off.

His reaction was immediate.

His hands flew up to cover his face as he screamed so terribly that she stumbled back. He rounded upon her. “Damn you!”

He shoved her violently to the ground, standing above her, features twisted in anger. “You little prying Pandora! You little demon!”

She flinched at his words, fear icy in its grip around her heart. He gestured to his face angrily. “Is _this_ what you wanted to see?” He sounded almost disbelieving, as if he couldn’t conceive why someone would want to see his face. “Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper!”

She was speechless. She scooted away from him in terror.

“ _Now you cannot ever be free!_ ” he roared, stumbling back. His shoulders sagged, and he fell to his knees by the water, appearing smaller than he really was. “Damn you….” He whispered, pain coating his words. Christine had to strain her ears to hear it. He turned to her. “Can you even dare to look?” He let his hand fall from his face, revealing features so distorted that Christine let out a little gasp. He whipped his hand back to cover his face and turned away from her.

“Can you even bear to think of me: this loathsome gargoyle, who burns in Hell, but secretly yearns for Heaven? This repulsive carcass, who seems a beast but secretly yearns for beauty? Christine….” He curled in more on himself, and Christine stumbled to her feet, dropping the mask and moving towards him slowly, unsure.

Her heart reached out to him and his pain, and she reached his side within seconds.

He didn’t acknowledge her presence, he just stared at the ground, and she placed her hand on his back. He flinched violently, but she ignored it, keeping her hand on his back and she kneeling next to him. She put her fingers under his chin and pushed his head up to look at her, shocked to find tears in his blue eyes. Then, her hand shaking, she gently gripped the hand covering his face and pulled it off, wrapping her hand around his, marveling at how big his were. She let out a shaky breath and reached up, caressing his face.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion and hope, and her heart swelled. “What’s your name?” she asked him softly. “Erik,” he said, his lips barely moving, his eyes gazing at her.

“Erik.” She tested his name on her tongue, enjoying the way her tongue formed around it.

“You make even my name sound beautiful,” he whispered. She smiled slightly and let go of his hand, reaching her other hand out to touch the disfigured part of his face. She rubbed her thumb across his cheek, looking into his eyes. She leaned in, eyes closed, before she felt him pull away from her.

Christine opened her eyes to see him staring at her, his expression indecipherable. “You fear me. Everyone fears me, you will regret it.”

The pain and loss on his face made her heart break, and she reached out once again. “Erik….”

She pulled him towards her with strength she didn’t know she had, and suddenly they were kissing. She was almost startled at how _right_ it felt, at how their lips fit perfectly against one another. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of parchment and ink. She felt his large hands in her hair, combing through it, and sighed, pleased.

They pulled back and rested their foreheads together, both of them smiling. “Maybe your fear can turn into love,” Erik whispered. Christine only grinned wider and leaned over to his ear, murmuring, “I think it already has.”

She kissed him once again. “I have to….”

Erik nodded sadly. “I know. I’ll take you back to the theater.”

She breathed in deeply, laughing slightly. “I can’t wait to see Meg’s reaction when I tell her I’m with you,” she said, kissing his nose.

“Do you think she’ll be upset that you’re with the Phantom of the Opera?”

“No, I think she’ll be pleased that I’m with the Angel of Music.”

Erik grinned at her, and Christine marveled at how handsome he was when he did so. “Say you love me,” she said softly. “You know I do.” He drew her into another kiss.

When they pulled apart she asked, “Can I meet you in Box 5 after the rehearsal?”

“Of course.”

And let’s just say that the journey back was just as exciting as the journey there.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
